


sorry, wrong number

by sundazed



Category: Wanna One (Band)
Genre: M/M, i promise i wasn’t drunk when i wrote this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-12
Updated: 2018-08-12
Packaged: 2019-06-26 03:21:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15654729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sundazed/pseuds/sundazed
Summary: Minhyun calls the wrong number.





	sorry, wrong number

“Dela Vega Auto Body Shop.”

Seongwu robotically recites as he lets the telephone rest lazily between his cheek and shoulder. Wiping away the dirt from his hands, he adds, a tiny teeny bit cheerier, “How may I help you today?”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” the voice on the other line says. “Isn’t this the Pizza Palace?”

“Nope, sorry.” Seongwu tries to sound sorry but he’s really just not sorry, he just wants to go home and binge watch the new season of Master Chef Kids.

He’s shit at cooking—the last time he tried to make food for him and Jinyoung (his roommate), he broke the microwave. Why didn’t anyone inform him he was supposed to peel the plastic off when you made microwave popcorn? Gordon would’ve probably hurled a crumpet at him if he saw their dorm room clouded with smoke. Granted, the instructions on the packet were pretty straightforward, but maybe not straightforward enough for two hungry college kids in the middle of their midterm exam crisis. Needless to say, their microwave’s still broken. And he’s still shit at making popcorn, much less make _pizza_.

“Fucking hell,” the person mutters. He almost forgot he was on the phone but wait—Gordon Ramsay, is that you?

But Seongwu bites his tongue before he can say it aloud and opts with a confused “I’m sorry I can’t be of assistance to you today?”

  
“Crap,” comes the flustered sailor mouth’s response. He’s still muttering a few expletives under his breath and Seongwu does _not_ get paid enough for this.

 

But seeing as this isn’t a potential customer he’s talking to, he decides to have a little fun. “On second thought, I have a bottle of brake fluid here”—he takes it from the floor and inspects the label—“Do you want me to add extra cheese on this?”

  
The person stops muttering and surprisingly takes it well, “I actually usually go for extra meat,” then he laughs. Seongwu doesn’t know why he’s laughing, but he laughs along with him anyway, even though, yes, he’s clueless as to why they’re laughing.

  
People say he’s funny but he didn’t know he was _this_ funny to have this much of an effect on a supposedly angry stranger. To be honest, he knows it wasn’t even _that_ funny so why the hell are they still laughing, it’s been ten seconds. He listens to the person’s laugh though, and notices that it’s the kind of laugh that sounds like it has a pair of crescent eyes attached to it.

  
He decides he likes it.

  
“But - anyway. No. Okay. Wrong number.” The laughing stops and a throat clears, “But wanna hear a funny story?”

  
Seongwu glances at the giant ancient analogue clock (everything in their shop is ancient) beside the glass doors (okay, maybe not everything) and realizes it’s only 15 minutes till closing time. It’s the last Friday before classes start again and everyone’s probably out carpe-ing this beautiful diem, or whatever, so it’s been a pretty slow day. He glances at Jisung-hyung sleeping soundly on his lounge chair in the back room, his tummy rising and falling with every inhale and exhale.

  
“Okay,” he replies decisively and relaxes into his plastic chair. He could use a funny story.

  
The person introduces himself as Hwang Minhyun, to which he replies with, “I’m Ong Seongwu, and I really can’t make you pizza even if you offered me a million dollars… unless maybe you want food poisoning?” Minhyun laughs at that again and Seongwu thinks he might as well add _good at making random strangers on the phone (or just Minhyun?) laugh_ on his CV.

  
“So - I can’t believe I’m telling you this but it’s just so damn funny and I don’t have anyone to talk to about it yet,” he admits. Huh. He laughs at Seongwu’s lame jokes and doesn’t have a lot of friends? That actually explains a lot of things.

  
“Anyway, so my brother, Woojin, met his ex at the supermarket yesterday. They broke up, like, two years ago—wait. No,” Minhyun gasps. Like _dramatically_ gasps, the one Seongwu sees - hears? - in dramas. “Holy shit. No. Actually, they didn’t break up. No. He just left. No explanation whatsoever. It sucked.”

  
“No shit.” Seongwu transfers the chunky phone from his left ear to the right. He doesn’t know what to say exactly, so he settles with the most articulate answer he could come up with, “That really sucks.”

  
“The suckiest suck of all the suckiest sucks that could suck.” Minhyun groans. “I had to drag him out of his bed everyday _for six months_. Then I had to feed him and dress him. It felt like the universe was making me practice how to raise a kid. It was a nightmare.”

  
“I hope he remembered how to use the bathroom, though?”

  
“He did. Just had to help him aim properly again.”

  
Seongu shudders, “TMI, but go on.”

  
“Anyway, he bumped into him again last night - after two whole years - while he was picking up some cereal, and that was their thing! He did the impossible and made Woojin a morning person! And breakfasts, morning jogs, and watching the sunrise. That was their thing. So all hell just broke loose. Well, that’s what he told me he felt.”

  
If anything, this really isn’t the funny story he was expecting. But if this were a funny story, he figures this is the set-up.

  
And it’s working.

  
Because Seongwu doesn’t know why he’s starting to get really invested in this, but admittedly, this is beginning to sound more appealing than watching Gordon teach little kids how to scramble some eggs (don’t you just whisk and pour then wait for it to become edible?). He also doesn’t know why he’s starting to sympathize with this stranger’s brother—Woojin, was it?—but all he really knows is this entire thing must royally suck. He’s been on both ends of the spectrum: being the dumpee and the dumper, but no one’s ever ghosted on him like that. At least Seongwu always had some sort of closure.

  
Minhyun goes on about how civil the entire thing in the grocery actually was, with it ending with The Ex actually giving Woojin his number “to catch up.” That’s bullcrap, Seongwu thinks. No one gives his ex his number just to catch up. Not an ex who bailed on his boyfriend without saying a word, at least.

  
Then Seongwu starts piecing the information together before Minhyun could even say it and concludes, “And he gave him this number saying this is where he works? A pizza place at that?”

  
“Yup.” Minhyun pops the p. “But Woojin doesn’t have the balls or another heart to risk getting broken to actually give him a call. That’s why I’m here - I mean, that’s why I’m talking to you, I guess.”

  
And _that_ was the punch line. That was the saddest punch line Seongwu’s ever heard. He can only pout.

  
When he doesn’t say anything, Minhyun continues, “You know what sucks the most? Woojin was finally okay. It took him so long to reach that okay state of being. And it’s all thanks to cereal that he’s about to slip into that bottomless pit of self-pity again.”

  
“Holy crap,” Seongwu breathes out. He looks at the clock before glancing at his snoring friend behind him again. “Dude, what about the three-day rule?” That was so incredibly stupid and Seongwu regrets saying it as soon as it leaves his mouth but he doesn’t get the chance to take it back.

  
“Dude,” Minhyun mocks him. “Does the three-day rule even apply when he’s already broken the unspoken don’t-be-an-asshole-and-tell-your-boyfriend-you’re-going-to-drop-off-the-face-of-Earth rule? And besides,” Minhyun pauses.

  
“Besides?” Seongwu prods him as he brushes a stray hair away from his eye. Then he remembers how greasy his hand is, and curses himself internally.

  
“Besides, I - I really wanted to talk to him. Not to get angry, or maybe just a little, but mostly just to know what happened. Before he was my brother’s boyfriend, he was my friend, too.”

  
_Oh_. “Oh.”

  
“Yup. And he just left. My brother didn’t get an explanation, but we were friends. I’d hoped I would hear a _see you later_  from him at least. But he just chose to smash my brother’s heart into smithereens, and I guess - mine, too.”

  
“Oh. Uhm, okay. Wow.” Seongwu wishes the part of himself taking a Lit degree could jump out right about now.

  
“Sorry, that didn’t sound as melodramatic in my head,” Minhyun laughs, but more calculated this time, like he’s thinking if there’s anything really funny about the situation.

  
“It’s okay. What are you going to tell Woojin?”

  
“The truth, most probably.”

  
“Are you really sure about that? Are you prepared to face mom duty again?” Seongwu’s had the displeasure of nursing a couple of hearts, including Jinyoung’s, and he knows how taxing that job is.

  
(Although maybe not as difficult as having to go through the motherfucking heartbreak yourself, but.)

  
Seongwu almost hears Minhyun shrug, “Better that than have him come lunging towards me with a flying roundhouse kick when he finds out I lied about it. But I’m hoping the case isn’t as bad this time. I hope he takes it well.”

  
“Alright, then,” Seongwu says finally. “Then I guess that‘s the plan. You tell him the truth, and he moves on. Life goes on.”

  
“Thanks, it’s going to be a brutal, but eh...the truth will set him free, right?”

  
“That’s the most cliché thing you could’ve said, but it’s true. And I’m sorry. We fix cars, not broken hearts.” Seongwu says apologetically (for real this time).

  
A silence falls suddenly between them, then Seongwu transfers the phone to his left ear again, his fingers twirling the telephone wire. 

  
Minhyun breaks the silence first, “So, thanks for listening to that.”

  
“For the record, that story was actually pretty sad. If that’s your funny story, you have a pretty dark humor.” _Please. Don’t hang up just yet._ “But you know, I actually enjoyed that.”

  
Minhyun laughs again, and the sound automatically makes Seongwu’s lips curl up.

  
_Wait. What is this feeling. This feeling needs to stay down._

  
Then Minhyun says, “You know, there’s a word for that.”

  
“For what?”—he stands up from his chair—“But wait, hold that thought.” He puts the phone down and runs to the door, immediately flipping the sign that says **We’re open!** to **Sorry, come again tomorrow** even if they still have two minutes to spare. “Ok, shoot.”

  
“Uhm, for that pleasure you get from the misery of others,” then Minhyun mumbles something that Seongwu doesn’t catch.

  
“Shmadenfr - what?”

  
Slower this time, he repeats, “Schadenfreude. It’s German.”

  
“Oh,” Seongwu leans so far on the counter that he almost falls off his chair. “Argh. Nice. I only know one German word.”

 

“What is it?” Minhyun replies enthusiastically.

 

Seongwu’s ear feels hot. Maybe it’s because he’s been on the phone for—he checks the duration—ten minutes. Wait, _ten minutes?!??_

  
Ignoring his burning ear, he pulls the phone close again and says confidently, “Arschloch.”

  
Without skipping a beat, Minhyun says, sounding offended, “Ouch.”

  
“Sorry,” Seongwu smiles. “It’s the only German word I know. Arschloch.”

  
That earns another laugh from Minhyun, “Okay. But yeah. Thanks again.”

  
Seongwu doesn’t want to hang up just yet, so he doesn’t. “No worries. This phone call is easily the highlight of my day.”

  
“Really?” Then Seongwu suddenly wonders how and what Minhyun looks like. Especially how he looks like right now, because he’s almost completely sure that he’s smiling like an idiot, too. Minhyun takes a jab, “Damn, that’s sad. You live a pretty boring life, then.”

  
Seongwu challenges, “Says the guy who laughed at my every lame joke. I don’t think you live a pretty exciting life too, considering you literally just exposed your brother’s love life - or lack of it? - to a complete stranger on the phone.” He pushes some more, “I bet this was the highlight of your boring life.”

  
Minhyun chuckles, and Seongwu’s gotten used to hearing him laugh now that the warmth that he feels run from his ear to his - heart, maybe - doesn’t surprise him as much anymore. “Maaaaaybe that’s far too reaching. But yeah, this was fun. Maybe we’re just bored with our lives.”

  
“Or maybe you’re just a huge blabbermouth.”

  
Then Jisung-hyung stirs awake and although his duty’s technically over, he knows he’s going to scold Seongwu if he catches him on a personal call using the work phone. So Seongwu quickly returns to his customer service voice and adds, “I’m sorry, sir, you’re going to have to call again tomorrow. Business hours are over.”

  
He imagines a confused Minhyun scrunching his eyebrows on the other end, but he surprisingly just goes along with it. “Okay then. I—I’ll call you, uh, again tomorrow?”

  
Seongwu smiles at Jisung-hyung and points to the phone, mouthing a _what an asshole_ , before saying, “Yes, sir. That would be lovely. Uh, just in case this number is busy tomorrow, though, you can try reaching me and I’ll personally help you.”

  
He doesn't know what force (probably the forces of the flirting gods, if there are any in this universe) compels him to recite his number, but he does. He repeats it two more times for good measure.

  
“All good, sir?” Seongwu asks finally.

  
“It was nice talking to you, Seongwu.” Then he adds, “You’re cute.”

  
Seongwu gags and realizes he’s wrapped the telephone cord around his neck. How the hell did that happen? But he tries to sound composed again. “S-sorry about that. It’s been a pleasure helping you, sir. Have a good night.”

  
Minhyun chuckles one last time, “Goodnight, arschloch. I’ll call you soon.”

  
The dial tone cuts through Seongwu’s ear, but it takes only a few seconds before his phone starts buzzing in his pocket.

 

“Hello?”

 

“Want to go for pizza tomorrow?”

 

**Author's Note:**

> happy first day of o/h week, cult! <3
> 
> thank you for reading~~ :D
> 
>  


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